


Eventually

by MissMarquin



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Boys In Love, Drama, Feels, Fluff, Future Fic, I guess this is canon, I use the word fuck way too much, Its not really smut, Love, M/M, Romance, Sorry Not Sorry, really yuri has the worst day, this is really gay, vague smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 19:20:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17793239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMarquin/pseuds/MissMarquin
Summary: Everything in life is eventual, especially bad days. And Yuri's was literally the fucking worst. Happy Valentine's Day Otayuri fans!





	Eventually

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theangryuniverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangryuniverse/gifts).



> This story doesn't take place on Valentine's Day. I mean, I guess it could, but it's not my intent, ahahah.

The worst morning of Yuri’s life started much like any other.

Except that his alarm didn’t go off. Or actually, it _did_ , according to the little icon on his phone, but he’d slept right through it. Yuri wasn’t surprised really. He’d stayed up way too late being sucked into _youtube hell_ , clicking on video after video. One moment it was like nine o’clock on the dot, and the next time that he looked, it was fucking two in the morning.

Funny, how the internet was.

What wasn’t funny was the day’s work. Yuri wasn’t remotely in the mood for corralling little children on the ice. Well, he wasn’t _really_ ever in the mood for kids, truth be told. He was good with them, but he wasn’t a patient person, and they often grated on his nerves.

Otabek said it was _cute_ of all things, reminding him that he would feel different about their own kids.

Yuri still blushed red at the idea-- of him and Otabek having a family. The man had said it so casually, like it was just _expected_ . And honestly, it wasn’t a bad idea. There was just _one tiny little problem_ \--

They were fucking gay, and they lived in fucking Russia.

The best that Yuri could hope for was _eventually_ . _Eventually_ , they would be able to marry each other, whisper those vows before God or the priest, or whoever the fuck else wanted to watch their sappy little ceremony.

But Yuri wasn’t stupid, so he didn’t hold his breath.

 

* * *

 

The children at the rink were more aggravating than usual.

Maybe it was because Yuri was already in a bad mood, or the universe was conspiring against him and whatever, but the moment that he walked into the rink and saw that little eight-year-old Andrei looked a little green, he frowned.

Yuri, the ever concerned teacher, leaned down to check on him, and the boy had promptly turned and puked _all over him_.

And because Yuri was technically retired from competitive skating and very stupid, he hadn’t bothered to keep a spare set of clothes in his locker. Because who needs a change, when all they do is yell things at their students? Thankfully Otabek did, and thank fucking God he wasn’t at the rink that particular day.

Because the moment Yuuri looked over at Yuri and saw him drowning in Otabek’s sweatshirt while the pants were a good foot-and-a-half too short, he threw his head back and burst out laughing. Yuri glared and shot an incredibly rude gesture back to him.

 _Eventually_ , Yuuri would get what was coming to him. Yuri didn’t know how or when, but _eventually_.

In the meantime, where was fucking Otabek when you needed him? Because this day literally couldn’t get worse.

 

* * *

 

It did.

Yuri wasn’t the world’s pickiest eater (seriously, he would eat anything), but he definitely wasn’t going to touch the tuna salad sandwich he had just been given. Especially not after they threw tomatoes on it, when he told them hell the fuck no.

With as much as he ate at this fucking sandwich shop they should know by now, and maybe they would eventually learn. And maybe the manager would _eventually_ care.

He had been about ready to yell at the waitress when his phone buzzed. He moved to ignore it, but his brain told him not to. So he chanced a look, his gaze immediately softening.

_Otabek [12:34 PM]: Hey, let’s grab some dinner tonight. I miss your stupid face._

It was amazing, how just two sentences could give him new meaning, how they could just ease the stress of the day away.

_Yuri [12:35 PM]: I miss your stupid face more._

He looked back up towards the hostess and cashier, watching them flit about hectically as they dealt with the lunch rush. Maybe it wasn’t really their fault on second thought, as busy as they were.

Maybe today, he’d just fucking eat the tomatoes.

 

* * *

 

Yuri was late.

He was _so fucking late_ to his date with Otabek, and really, his boyfriend was going to kill him. Otabek was the kind of man that wasn’t just punctual, he was fifteen minutes early to every function they went to. For someone like Yuri, who took his sweet time getting ready, it was more than a mild aggravation.

He eventually get there, but _eventually_ wasn’t soon enough.

And this time, he’d tried, really he had-- but the world just wasn’t on his side that day. He’d woken up late, been covered in vomit and then forced to eat tomatoes. And then there was the whole thing of wearing Otabek’s ill-fitting sweatsuit.

Obviously he had to go home and change into something more appropriate. He’d picked something simple-- just some tight-fitting jeans and a plain black t-shirt. With a quick brush through his hair, he’d braided it before letting it fall down his back.

But now he was late.

Yuri tried to reason with himself, as he walked down the street at a brisk pace. The tiny little diner wasn’t far away, but if Otabek had wanted him to show up on time, he shouldn’t have picked fucking seven o’clock.

By the time he arrived, his hair had flyaways and his cheeks were flushed red. Despite being a former-world-famous athlete, he breathed heavily, grumbling lowly about how he’d let himself go. Really, he was _so much better than that_.

But when he met Otabek’s gaze, he saw the man regarding him with a goofy smile slung across his lips, and fuck, his heart melted. He held his arm out gently, not caring that they were in public, or that people shot them weird looks.

Let them be fucking uncomfortable, for all he cared-- Yuri had had the worst fucking day of his life, and Otabek was about to make it all better.

Yuri tugged his arm into his, squeezing it gently.

Otabek leaned into him, brushing a sweaty bang back from his forehead. “Really, there wasn’t a rush,” he chided.

“With you, there’s always a rush,” Yuri said. He didn’t mean the man’s preference for propriety, he meant that he required his presence like he required fresh water.

Otabek’s fingers lingered a moment, before he pulled away and led them to their table.

The diner was the first place that they had ever had a date, even if it wasn’t really a date back then. Years prior, they had just gotten a quick bite to eat. The waitress had told them they made a cute couple. Yuri had immediately snapped that they weren’t together, while Otabek had replied with a quiet and subdued _thank you_.

That day six years ago, things changed.

“This is nice,” Yuri said, groaning as he slid into the booth. “We don’t get out enough.”

“This is a special occasion,” Otabek said quietly.

Yuri narrowed his eyes at that and said, “Then why the fuck are we eating _here_? Couldn’t have taken me somewhere nice for a change?”

Otabek chuckled, knowing that he was only _mostly_ joking. They waitress brought them their drinks, already knowing what they wanted.

“So what’s the occasion,” Yuri asked, sipping at his strawberry lemonade. Otabek would call it needlessly sweet, but Yuri thought it was fucking perfect.

“I was offered a job, Yura,” he said quietly as his fingers fidgeted. Yuri watched him, a frown crossing his face. Otabek never fidgeted.

“What kind of job are we talking?”

Otabek rubbed at the back of his neck. “A coaching gig,” he replied.

Yuri raised an eyebrow at that. “Coaching?” he finally asked. “I thought you lost your desire for it.” Otabek hadn’t coached in years, opting to take to the internet and arrange electronic mixes for streaming channels. Their income together was decent, and lived well enough.

“At one time sure, but I kind of miss skating. Besides this is--” He paused, fidgeting again. “It’s--” Another pause as he reformed his words. “What I mean to say is that this job is in the States.”

 _The States_ . What on earth did he mean by The States-- Yuri froze then, his mouth hanging open in a little ‘O’ as it hit him. “You mean the _United States_?” he finally sputtered. He wasn’t angry, just surprised.

Otabek nodded. “I know it’s sudden, but do you remember my old coach in Canada? He relocated to Washington and he’s decided to retire this year. He’s asked if I might be interested in taking over his students.”

“And what did you say?” Yuri asked, swallowing around the small lump in his throat.

“I haven’t said anything yet, Yura. I wanted to ask you first.”

“Otabek, you don’t need to ask me what you should do--”

“You know that I will only take this job if you come,” Otabek interrupted. “There’s no point in anything if you aren’t there with me.”

Any normal person might have felt sick at such a hard decision, but his answer was almost immediate. “Of course I’ll come with you, you stupid shit.” His grandfather had passed several years before, so there wasn’t really anything left in Russia to keep him there. Unless you counted fucking _Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb_. Which Yuri didn’t.

Otabek let out a long and relieved sigh, closing his eyes in relief.

Yuri frowned. “Did you actually think that I would say no?”

“Yura, I never know what you’ll say,” he said, a tiny little smile on his lips. He hadn’t meant in it a bad way, he didn’t think.

Yuri reached out, catching Otabek’s hand in his, his fingers curling around the calloused skin there. “You said it yourself, you know,” he almost whispered. “There’s no point in anything, if you aren’t there. Beka, seriously, you’re my _everything_.”

Otabek readjusted his hand so he could rub his thumb across the back of Yuri’s. “I love you,” he said quietly.

“Yeah I know, I love your stupid face too.” And then Yuri thought of something else. “Wait, does this mean that he picked you _over_ JJ?” Otabek smiled slyly at that and Yuri barked out a laugh.

JJ probably didn’t even fucking know, and the moment that he found out, he’d be _pissed_.

But it’d be too late. Yuri would be in America with Otabek, and their lives would change once more.

And for the better, of course.

 

* * *

 

Otabek was always quiet, but that night, he was more contemplative than usual.

It made Yuri worry, just a little bit, as he watched him with a furrowed brow. They had this tiny little balcony attached to their third-floor walk up, and on cool nights they would sit out there and watch the city.

But that night, Otabek nursed a glass of whiskey, which was a little bit unlike himself. He fidgeted again, his knee wiggling with more energy than he was known for. Yuri held his own glass of wine, frowning.

 _Weird_.

“I’ll miss this skyline,” Yuri finally said. Otabek hummed in response, but didn’t properly answer. Yuri quirked a brow and continued with, “I hope JJ does find out and comes down to Washington. Then we could have this _wild_ threesome.”

It was utter nonsense, but just as he thought, Otabek wasn’t really paying attention. “Yeah--” he started, but then he realized the full weight of Yuri’s words, and turned to him. “ _What--_ ”

“Oh god, you can’t think that I actually meant that,” Yuri said immediately, waving at him. “Really Otabek, what is with you?”

“Nothing is wrong--” But then he paused, downing the rest of his whiskey. Then he suddenly asked, “Do you remember that duffel bag you nearly threw out and I had a fucking heart attack?”

Yuri did, even if it was about three years back. What a _wild_ change of topic. “We never even use it, Beka. We should just fucking toss it, even if it’s _nostalgic_ , or whatever it was that you claimed.” But he’d never bothered, just like he had promised.

“Give me a moment,” Otabek replied, getting up and setting his empty glass down on the small table.

Yuri stood too, placing his glass of wine down. “Really Otabek, you’re acting _weird_ , and I don’t like--”

Otabek had come back with a tiny envelope, thrusting it into his hands. There wasn’t a card in there, but it had a little _heft_ to it. Yuri shook it slightly and whatever was inside slid around. He opened it gently and pulled out a tiny baggie, and inside was--

 _His grandfather’s wedding ring_.

He recognized it immediately, the simple rose gold band. Grandpa had worn it literally everyday of his life, and when Yuri was a kid, he would play with it as he tugged on his hand. He gaped at it, and then to Otabek, who stood there as he rubbed at his neck. He was nervous, he was _fucking nervous and--_

“He gave that to me,” Otabek said quietly. “In the hospital. I had asked him before that, but I couldn’t ever find one that I liked. But when he was in the hospital those last few weeks before he--” He sighed sadly, before continuing. “He pulled it off and gave it to me, and he told me that I’d get the chance some day. Eventually, we’d find that happiness.”

Eventually. His life was full of _eventually_ , it seemed. Yuri could feel his lip trembling at the thought, at the idea of his grandfather talking about such a thing with Otabek.

“I hid it in the duffel bag.”

“Beka,” Yuri croaked, his voice hoarse, “Grandpa died like _three years ago_.”

“I _asked_ him like five years ago,” Otabek murmured. “But I didn’t want to ask you until you know-- until we could _actually_ \--”

Until they could legally tie the knot, obviously. Yuri knew that paperwork and saying vows in front of God meant little, but Otabek was a traditional person if anything. He wouldn’t want the band on his finger, unless it truly _meant_ something.

“Why are you asking now?” Yuri replied with. “I mean, _are_ you asking, or is this--”

“We can get married in the States,” Otabek said quietly, stepping closer. He pulled the baggie from Yuri’s hand and dumped it out onto his hand.

“Beka, I swear to fucking God, if you get on your knee and--”

Otabek laughed, instead pulling him closer by his waist. “ _Yura_ ,” he said, his voice low and full of love, “Will you marry me? Er-- _finally_?”

Yuri’s throat was dry, and it should have been an easy and quick answer, and he should have already thrown that ring onto his finger. Instead he said, “About five years too fucking late.” It was worth to see the pause on Otabek’s face, the hitch in his breath as he panicked. Yuri then smiled, pressing his nose against his neck and pulling him close. “But you and I both know that I’m fucking late to _everything_.”

The ring was too big, but that could easily be fixed. Otabek tucked it into his pocket neatly before pulling Yuri’s face to his. “Is this still the worst day ever?”

“I don’t know,” Yuri whispered against his lips, but they both fucking knew that it wasn’t. “Is the sky blue during the day?” Otabek snorted at that. “Do I love you?”

Otabek hummed at that, finally closing the distance between them, tasting his lips. It wasn’t hungry or passion filled, but it was perfect for the moment and Yuri melted into it, Otabek’s fingers twirling in his hair gently.

“You know what this means, right?” Yuri asked when they pulled apart. “We’ll beat Tweedle-Dee and Dumb to the altar.”

Otabek only laughed, swooping in for another kiss. This one was hungrier and Yuri threw his arms around his neck, as Otabek’s hands gripped at his hip bones. Slowly pressing him back inside the apartment.

They picked each other apart slowly that night, fingers sliding across delicate skin, pressing so perfectly. The heat burned with the friction, but Yuri loved it, _reveled_ in it. It was different that time, because it was a promise. Otabek burned that promise into his skin with every fleeting touch of his fingers, as Yuri keened under him. It was slow, and tender and they took their time, because they had all the fucking time in the world.

Eventually, they crested that edge. Eventually, they fell over it so hard and fast, that they were leave with chests heaving and feeling limbless.

“Grandpa loved you, you know,” Yuri said a long time later.

Otabek was half-asleep, wrapped around him, his cheek warm against Yuri’s chest. Yuri raked his hands through his hair gently and Otabek hummed quietly.

“He’d be happy about this,” Yuri whispered. Otabek hummed again, pressing a tired kiss against his skin. “I’m happy about this,” he finished with.

At that, Otabek shifted slightly to look at him with bleary eyes, and Yuri smiled back. Otabek cherished it, he knew. Yuri smiled a lot, but it was rarely one full of such _devoted emotion_.

“Best day ever,” Otabek replied sleepily.

Yuri didn’t reply as the man settled back against. He didn’t need to.

 _Best day ever, indeed_.

With more to come.

 _Forever_.

**Author's Note:**

> The duffel bag thing happened to me and my husband. That's where he hid my engagement ring, and I nearly tossed it out, intending on donating it to a thrift store. I thought that he was going to have an aneurysm, because he literally hadn't touched the bag in years. It took another year for me to learn why. ROFL.


End file.
